


Lost In The Woods

by ussgallifrey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Established Relationship, F/M, Fights, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussgallifrey/pseuds/ussgallifrey
Summary: An explosion of burning words and sharp emotion leads to a moment of contemplation.Inspired by the song "Lost in The Woods" from Frozen 2.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Lost In The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Have I been listening to the new [Frozen 2](https://youtu.be/4gIkKZz7qSM) soundtrack? Why yes, yes I have.

The fight leaves him with the slamming of the door. 

Words hot and heavy, spitting fire, die on his tongue. Turning to hot ash and settling in his gut with an uneasy heaviness.

It was stupid. So, fucking, stupid. Little could turn his emotions the way you could. His heart lay in your hands and you played the strings so sweetly. But with a mission gone south and tensions rising… well. The empty room in which he finds himself deflating says it all, truly. 

His legs seem a little less steady as he finds himself stumbling backward, collapsing on the edge of the unmade bed. Breathing harsher than it should be, hand trembling with adrenaline. And that sinking feeling of pure disgust that coats his stomach.

With a groan, Bucky drops his head into his hands, legs spread wide as he slumps forward. He shouldn't have said what he did, but it just came out in a moment of unbreaking tension. It was stupid. But arguments had in the heat of the moment rarely follow proper rules of engagement. 

Your suit lies lifelessly next to him. Still warm, still covered in seedy iron-hot blood. And he wants to scream until his voice goes raw.

Another look towards the door. But it only brings the guilt rushing to the forefront of his mind. A sharp inhale, tears forming and ready to fall, unending silence, and a door slamming without explanation. Not that he needed you to give him one - he's well aware of how much of a blockhead he was.

Every instinct he holds is urging him forward, to chase after you and apologize and beg for forgiveness, chase the tears away. He could leave right now and catch up to you - wherever you'd gone. But he doesn't. You… you don't need him breaking through your still fragile emotions just yet. But…

He wants to scream, punch, throw something. Make a racket and feel something outside of guilt. But he's not going to do it here in this sacred space. In your shared room. 

His head aches with the image of you. He hated to see you cry. And because of him, that's the worst of it. He made you cry.

Standing with a heavy creak of aching bones and vibranium, Bucky gathers your uniform up and deposits it in the hamper. Makes the bed slowly and methodical, creasing and tucking the sheets with military precision. Pillows are fluffed and the decorative ones you're so fond of are carefully arranged in the way you typically place them. 

He putters, cleaning the room of daily comforts. The matching pair of mugs with coffee stains left over from the rush out the door earlier that morning. Lets them soak in the sink, maybe he'll come back to it to wash later along with the breakfast plates. 

While folding a blanket, Bucky finds your forgotten phone on the blue armchair and plugs it into the charger on your nightstand. The lock screen flashes and he's forced to stare at a happier image of himself, smiling as you kiss his cheek. His stomach twists uncomfortably. 

The room has been cleansed and you remain missing from it. The room still holds too much negative. Your scent lingers, lilac and soap and coffee fills his senses. But it's too much without you there.

With a glance at the door, the room, and the door once again, he bites his lip and heads out into the hallway. It's empty, of course. Half the team is probably in the conference room and the other in medbay. You had stormed to your room without much decorum, gaining raised brows from the rest of the team in the aftermath of a mission turned south. The raised tension had been obvious to everyone at the time, but neither of you had been thinking very clearly.

Each turn, every opening door has him searching for you. But he knows better. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the one you bought him, he passes by the large windows overlooking the grounds and nearby forest. It's enticing, calling out to him. Fresh air and the calming silence only nature can fully bring. Something reminiscent of his days tending goats in a distant country far from upstate New York.

Your teary-eyed glare haunts him as he wanders through the sea of red and orange trees. There had been fire there, burning and hot. Oh, the things you would say to him. Maybe now he'd be the one chasing your heart, begging for another chance. 

The ground is hard and cold beneath his boots, the world turning to the winter season without a sign of snow. There's a small path, following the curve of the lake. He likes it here, admittedly. He'd like it better with you. He likes most things better with you if he's being honest with himself. 

His head spins with mixed moments of happier times and the storm that took place in your room. Everything is wrong and shattered and torn and, God. Maybe you did deserve better than what he had to offer. How many nights did you calm his anxious mind with a gentle caress and soft honey-sweet words? But maybe this was the thing to break it all to pieces, this little slice of heaven you had carved out with him. 

He was an idiot. Of course, he would go and wreck something like this. It's surprising it took you this long to find the flaw in his design. Maybe if he was… he doesn't even know. He can't think straight right now. Everything's jumbled.

When Bucky breaks through to the clearing, that little bench at the edge of the lake. Well, maybe he should feel surprised to find you sitting there. Staring out at the calm blue water.

For all these broken thoughts and that anxious voice prophesying his downfall, he sees you and all that negative thinking dies on impact. The sun is hitting you just right, his ethereal goddess. And he sees his True North right there in front of him.

He's compelled forward. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot doesn't stir your gaze, but you must know he's there. You give nothing away as he carefully takes a seat next to you, giving you as much distance between your bodies as possible. 

Words evade him, all clogged up in his throat and he can't form a proper sentence to soothe the burn. Wouldn't even know where to start to fix this. Staring out at the lake, ever calm and gentle, Bucky tries to steel himself for the impending impact. His words were too harsh, surely you've decided your path away from him.

Gentle fingers envelop his hand, squeezing lightly as you interlace them together with his. You say nothing, wiping a stray tear away. But there's the hint of a smile grazing your lips. He squeezes back, trying to relay everything with just a touch.  _ I'm sorry I was in the wrong Please don't cry Hate me but don't leave me I'm sorry I'm sorry I love you. _

Bucky chances a glimpse over at you. Raising your head defiantly, you give him a proper look. Beautiful eyes tinted red, a flurry of emotions within the exchange. But despite all this, you scoot closer on the old wooden bench and settle against his side. Wrapping a solid arm around your shoulders, he draws you in. Words can be spoken later, apologies and explanations. For now, this can be what you both need.

Two people sharing in the comfort of one another. Silent, but easily read. Words unspoken, but actions fully understood. A path that led to you, his home. His True North.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on my [Tumblr](https://ussgallifreyfics.tumblr.com).


End file.
